AFatBoyisMissing
Page 3
But at least he had a home to return to. He was old enough to get permission to take a bride. He was very thankful that Octavia had accepted him. Three children later and she was more beautiful than ever. Motherhood had not lessened her need of him or his desire for her. He had enough wealth to live comfortably and owned a dozen slaves. But now the comfortable home, the vineyard and the olive grove would be left to be pillaged and burned by the mad Huns, as they wasted his land like they had done farther north.
Octavia had not batted an eye when he told her of his plan, his hope for a new life. He had talked to fellow centurions who had served in Britain and they had said it was a good land although always shrouded in mist. But he cared little for that when it gave him a chance to take his family and escape to safety. Yes, it was escaping and he couldn't deny that, but it was the only way he could protect his family. The troops around him wouldn't survive the onslaught of the Mongols. Once the legions took all before it. No single soldier failed to do his duty. Now fighting was only another way to waste your life. No Consul or Emperor would give you praise or honours. No, the troops he knew would quickly fade into the hills once the hordes from the far east swept down on them.
He had seen others going to the shrines and making sacrifices. Getting the priests to read the secrets of the chicken entrails, but how could they really know. How could they predict the future? His new religion was still confusing. He had become a follower of a man who was crucified by Pontius Pilot back when Rome was still strengthening its forces in the rebellious land of Judea. His wife had confided in him before they were to marry that she was a Christian and she wanted her children to be raised as Christians too. He had at first found it difficult to put aside the belief that the gods control his life. Jupiter, Saturn and Mars were just imaginary but this man known as Jesus was real; flesh and blood and he had died on a cross so that others could live.
The teachings of his wife's minister had taught him many things. It was not completely clear as yet, but he knew that he had to depend on himself and was responsible for the well being of his family. A sea voyage might do them all some good. Sailing away from a fishing village south of Rome and then taking the western passage through the opening gates of Atlas (Gibraltar). From there they would sail into the western sea and up along the coasts past the land of the Gauls and finally to the land that Julius Caesar had conquered. It was a journey of a thousand leagues or more. It would take time, but if his new God was kind they would soon be starting a new life.
Scripio looked at the small vessels that would soon take his family and his brother-in-laws' family away from their home. They seemed so small. He still had some worries, but with the news of the plundering savages from the east under Attila the Hun now just 100 leagues from Rome, it seemed to be the only route he could take. It was hard to leave the olive groves and the calm of the blue Mediterranean and go to another country so far away. He wasn't sure that Britain was a good place, but he didn't want to wait for the onslaught. His wife Augusta had decided to take this sea journey. Fortunately Marcus and his wife Octavia were part of the family who had taken this decision.
He looked again at the small vessels and felt a chill grip his spine. He was not experienced with the sea. Nor had he ever sailed before. So this would be a new experience. The trip would take 3-4 weeks if the Captain experienced favorable winds. But that was up to the gods and right how it seemed that all his gods were abandoning them. Maybe Marcus with his new Christian religion had a different outlook in life, he wasn't too sure. He took the gold purse and shook its contents.
This was to be the next installment for the Phoenician captain. He hated leaving his life and the lives of his family in the hands of a stranger, but what could he do? His wife and children were helpless here. His wife would be used for the pleasure of the savages while his children would be butchered. He'd fight and die defending them, but he'd be killed if he stayed here.
"Captain, how are the preparations coming?"
"I don't like the signs. The clouds are building up in the west and they foretell a storm. We can't make any progress if we try and head out tomorrow night. We will have to wait."
Scripio knew that the Captain was correct, but it didn't make him feel any more confident. Another day, another night and the Mongol hordes could soon be here. Then it mattered little how many months they had planned and prepared. They'd be fighting for their lives and soaking the entranceways of their homes with blood.
"When will you know for sure?"
"I think you should send down all your supplies like we planned. If there is a break in the weather and the storm gives us a chance maybe we can leave in the early morning. That is only a few hours of delay, but we will just have to wait. The wind is picking up and I can taste the winds from across the sea. It's a haboob, a desert storm and it may blow past us quickly."
Storms from the hot Sahara were brutal, quick and deadly. If a small vessel was caught before its sails were lowered and everything was tied down, a ship could be swamped or turn turtle and all the passengers would be welcomed by Neptune.
"I'll tell Marcus Fabius. He will start sending down the last of the supplies. Do you think it will be a smooth passage?"
The captain looked at him with a sarcastic grin. "It's not the best time of year to go beyond our sea. But I've made the trip 8 times over the last four years so I have a good idea of the dangers. You will soon discover the maladies of ocean travel. But after the first week or so you'll be able to hold down a meal and then things will be better."
The laughter that followed ate at Scripio's sense of dignity. He had to admit he didn't want to go. He was afraid of the sea.
"Have you ever met any pirates?" he asked.
The captain went pale. "No, the gods have looked after me. I know of several ships that have not been so lucky. We have a good crew who can fight. Bring whatever weapons you have. Marcus told me that four of his men from his old cohort are skilled in archery. That may come in handy if a strange craft wishes to approach too closely. My ship is fast. The other is slowed by the weeds on its bottom. We should have careened it before now, but you people are in a hurry. I would be too with those Mongols coming down the coast thirsting for blood. I am taking my family with us. That was what Marcus and I agreed to so I too have no desire to fail or met either pirates on the sea or devils on the land. I will be happy to get away. Britain is a good country. It's cooler than here and is more wet than dry, but I'd rather be wet and alive than lying in a puddle of my own blood."
The captain took the purse and waved goodbye. So the journey was soon to begin. It was going to be a close thing. He hoped that the Mongols would be delayed or want to enjoy the spoils of war before they came down to their
location. How many had they killed already? Some of the centurions who had come down from the north told stories of cities and towns having hundreds of death in the town squares. No, there was only one chance for him and his family and that was by taking those small vessels carefully lying in harbour and heading away from the madness that had taken over the land.
Marcus heard about the potential delay and the reason for it and cursed.
"We had better do as the captain says. If it's still stormy I think we would be safer on board than waiting here until the Mongols sweep down. If that happens then we can pull up anchor and get out. If the winds blow us east and not west then we need to find a sheltering spot and ride out the storm. We may be delayed, but we will at least be alive. I'm not going to take the chance and wait. Tell Augusta to get ready and have the children set to embark on a moment's notice. Octavia is already prepared. We have food for two months. So we need not worry. Water may be a problem, but we have enough goatskins filled to make do. I'm glad you decided to come. To land in a foreign land without your best friend would be no pleasure at all."
Marcus and Scripio had been friends since childhood. They had served for a time in the same legion before Scripio had been assigned to work with the Senate. But they had
always kept in contact and through that friendship they were now about to save the lives of their families.
Chapter Three - The Fat Lady
Sarah arrived early and watched the ripples in the small bay where the barge was moored. It was called 'The Fat Lady', which in view of her wide decks and working crane seemed an appropriate name.
So this was going to be her day to discover the allures of working on a river scow. Well, it wasn't a scow and was kept clean. She wondered if she was just being too headstrong. Was this stockbroker-turned-environmentalist actually going to take her up the mountain? Up to the site where he father might have met his end? She shivered both from the chill of her mood and the fresh breeze that was now coming across the river.
"Good morning! Can I come aboard?" she cried, as the old man she had first approached came out of the cabin.
"Yes sure, be my guest. My son told me that you were going to ship with us. It will be a nice change having a lady along. The Fat Lady hasn't had many of the fairer sex grace her decks. So you may consider yourself honoured."
She looked at him to see if he was joking but his face was serious.
"Well, I may not be of much use. Your son said that he was down one crew member and I could help him before the cold set in and ended your season. Have you actually made anything from picking up submerged logs?"
The old man had a twinkle in his eye. "My! You are full of questions this morning aren't you? Have you had breakfast?"
"No. To tell the truth I wasn't sure my stomach would be ready for breakfast if this barge started to rock and roll."
He laughed and she could see the similarity between him and his son. His face was more weathered, but it still had the strength of character she had seen last night in the restaurant.
"This is a pretty firm platform even when a storm suddenly comes up. Come on, I can cook you a breakfast that will put some flesh on those bones."
She smiled and wasn't really sure whether she wanted too much more flesh in certain parts anyway. It was only by a healthy exercise regime she kept her bottom from becoming an eyesore.
"Well, I guess you can convince me. I'd die for a coffee!"
She followed him into the cabin where there was a small kitchenette.
"Now, my French toast is world famous. You'll need something to give you energy."
"That sounds great. I love French toast!"
She watched as he busied himself.
"I understand that your son only came back here recently. It must have been quite a change from the fast life of the city and the excitement of the Stock Exchange to come to the tranquility of the river."
He turned and a strange thoughtful look came into his eyes. "My boy was wasting his life and his talents in the city. What sort of life is it to get rich in trading stocks for other people? Whether the market goes up a point or down five what does it all mean or matter? At first I think he found it exciting. But then the grind and the pressure and the doubt set in. He spent 15-hour days servicing his clients. Sometimes he'd make a fortune and the next day a terrorist attack or a ship sinking would send the stocks plummeting. But since he was the stockbroker he was expected to foretell any fluctuations and protect the client. Neither he nor anyone else can live with that sort of pressure for long. He had a good salary that would make anyone envious. He even had a high stepping lady, but it was all a shallow form of living. It suddenly struck him that his life was a facade. So he turfed it all and came back here."
Sarah tasted the French toast soaked in real maple syrup. "This is wonderful! No wonder its world famous."
The man laughed, "you are my kind of girl. You should have seen my son when he arrived. His face was pinched. His eyes were tired and had a dead look about him. Thank God for fresh air and hard work. So he didn't make a third of what he made two years ago. That's not important. This year we are doing well; thank you very much. But don't let on I've told you anything. He's sort of touchy about his former life. That girl, well, she gave him the royal shaft when he decided to re-align his career."
"Ms. Redbourne, I see that my father has been feeding you his specialty. He's not a bad cook as long as you ignore his prattling."
The old man reddened and then laughed. "Jake, I'll have you know I've been telling this new crew member that you are a Captain Bligh and don't deserve the time of day. You better watch it or I'll put a laxative in your food and then you'll be the one prattling."
Jake smiled at his father's comments. They had been sparring like old boxers for years. It was just a form of friendship. His father had certainly given him support when he came back from the big city. He turned and looked at Sarah Redbourne again. Yes, she was certainly nice to look at. He noted that she was dressed appropriately for their expedition.
"I'm glad you agreed to help me. It's hard when we're short of staff. But that can't be helped. Now if you grab your coffee I'll show you 'The Fat Lady'."
She looked up and smiled back.
"Who chose the name?" she asked.
"Well, I guess it was a mutual decision. My Dad was trying to encourage me and not let me be so down in the mouth when I came back. He had an option on this barge and, well you know the saying 'it's not over until the Fat Lady sings! That seemed to be a wise bit of advice and so we name our barge The Fat Lady."
Sarah followed him out onto the deck.
"I noticed that your have scuba gear. Do you have to do a lot of diving?"
"Sometimes we have problems with the way the crane grabs onto logs and I have to go down and use a chain. It saves time and we usually get bigger returns. Sometimes a log is jammed and it interferes with recovering others in the pile and I have to go down and see what needs to be done. Why? Are you a diver too?"
Sarah rubbed her forehead. "No not really I've taken the lessons and done some diving in the Caribbean, but I'm not really much of a diver yet."
"Well, once you've been bitten unless something terrible like a shark attack happens, you can always dive again. It's like learning to ride a bicycle. Even if you've not ridden for years, as soon as you mount the bike and grip the handlebars the rest comes back in a flash. I always keep a spare tank and regulator in the equipment locker. Jim who is off today sometimes dives and it's good to have a lifeline on top just in case something goes wrong below."
Jake showed her the crane and how it worked. "When I dive Dad takes over operating the crane. The barge is a steady platform so once we put out two anchors to reduce any possibility of drifting he becomes the crane operator if I'm diving. Times when I'm still on board I do most of the crane work. We have it down to a pattern that is working well. This year we are turning a good profit and have paid off the barge so it's been great."
The north wind continued to increase and Sarah felt her body chill and start to shiver.
"I guess your prediction that the weather would get cold and you had only a short time before the freeze came was accurate. I should have brought my winter coat."
"The wind can be fierce in this part of the bay, but once we are on our way the river meanders and there are some thick brush along certain parts of the river and it sort of takes the teeth out of the wind. Then once you are working you hardly notice it."
"What do you want me to do?"
"When I'm not below and hopefully that will be most of the time, I'd like you to help my Dad as we pile up
the recovered logs on the deck. We usually have two men working the ropes and that helps the crane operator to pile the logs. Sometimes, you have to lasso a log and pull it into place. Without doing that we quickly discovered that the pile can become unstable and after losing a pile once when the logs splashed into the river, we realized how important placement was.
"If I have to go below then Dad operates the crane. Then you have to be a jack-of-all-trades. You have to watch over me and be my lifeline in case I get into trouble and when the crane pulls up a mouthful of logs you have to do your correction and alignments. Have you, as a young girl ever played the game Pi
ck-Up-Sticks? That's a little like your job here. You move the sticks and do it in a way that the pile is maintained. I don't think you'll have any trouble."
The Fat Lady was soon free of the dock and she chugged up the river.
Sarah stood in the wheelhouse and watched the landscape change.
"I understand this river was used as a logging river for years," she said.
"Yes, that's true!" Arthur Dorchet said. "It's funny I've lived beside this river for more than 50 years and I never ready though much of the log booms and logging boats. It just seemed to be a natural part of life. Then as the trees were all used up and the new logging areas were no longer within easy reach the river, the people who made a living here slowly moved away and the river, in turn, started to die. All the tannins in the bark and submerged logs killed off most of the fish. It ruined the spawning grounds and even the other water life, like the frogs, water lilies and plants. Everything just faded away.